


Beginning After the End

by DeniseTidwell



Category: clexa - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26136553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeniseTidwell/pseuds/DeniseTidwell
Summary: AU. Lexa is recruited by the leader of a post apocalyptic settlement to rescue his daughter after she is taken by another group of survivors.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Lexa
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

"And some there be, which have no memorial; who are perished as though they never been; and are become as though they had never been born. --- Ecclesiastes 44:9"  
The card she held in her hands, on which these words had been printed, was wrinkled and torn. The words were faded beyond legibility but she remembered what the words were.  
She found it ironic that the words themselves would fade into nonexistence as she looked at the card thoughtfully. The young man who had given it to her had not ceased to exist. Yet. She still remembered John but, once her life ended, there would be no one to remember. He would fade out as the card had.  
Pity because John had been one of the few good things that she remembered.  
"In a hundred years no one will care that they beat us." John had said...  
He had said these words as they walked home from the park a lifetime ago after losing a baseball game to some of the jerky kids at their school.  
"What will they care about a hundred years from now?" she wondered aloud as they walked beneath a flawless blue sky, a gorgeous summer day.  
John Murphy, a supremely awkward 13 year old on that particular day, had shrugged his narrow shoulders and replied "I dunno. Whatever the big thing is then, I guess. I do know that it won't be those a-holes."  
She had to smile. He always had known how to make her smile when she least felt like it.  
He decided then that his work was not yet done as he continued "Unless they do something spectacular. I mean a caveman invented the wheel so they have an outside chance..."  
She laughed at this and put in, as they left the park behind and began walking on the sidewalk beside the road that was lined with cars that were unmoving. Abandoned there...  
She did not register this, however, as she pointed out to John "Cavemen were a lot smarter than those jackasses."  
John chuckled at this and then, suddenly, changed the subject as he himself changed...  
"It's getting dark. We shouldn't be out."  
His voice was different. Deeper.  
She looked up at the sky, stopping in her tracks, as it went from pristine summer blue to a stormy gunmetal gray.  
"You shouldn't be out..."  
Not John's voice this time. Costia.  
She looked in horror at John. He was now as he looked on the day he had died.  
"Murph..."  
He took her hand in his as rain began to fall.  
No. Not rain.  
"Lexa," he said "It's okay."  
"No." she choked, looking at her left hand, stark fear gripping her as she realized it was not rain that fell but blood.  
She repeated numbly "No, Murphy. It isn't okay."  
"Lexa." he repeated firmly, looking deeply into her eyes "It's okay."  
"Nothing about this is okay!" she nearly screamed "How can you think this is okay?!"  
"Lexa. It's okay." he parroted.  
"Quit saying that! We have to get back." Lexa pulled away from him "We have to get to Costia."  
"Lexa."  
"Damn it, Murphy!"  
"It's okay."  
"MURPHY!"  
"In a hundred years no one will care. No one will know so how could they care?" Murphy's voice was casual, almost amused.  
Lexa bolted away from him, running full speed with fire around her toward home. She was afraid to find there was no home to run back to. She knew there was no longer a home to run back to.  
She knew that Costia was dead, lying on the ground with her throat cut...

* * * * *

Lexa's eyes opened suddenly, wide as she looked about frantically.  
Had she cried out? If she had was there anyone, or anything, nearby to have heard her?  
She looked at the hole in the roof of the wrecked building she had found to pass the night as the wind outside picked up. The light from the full moon had shown in earlier, lighting the small room at least a bit but, now, it was almost completely black.  
Cloud cover. Blowing in a storm.  
How long had she slept? Did it matter?  
She sat in the dark, listening to the night around her.  
Silence.  
If she had made a sound none of the dead ones had been within earshot. She would have known by now. She was more concerned with the living, though, which was why she preferred to be alone. The dead had taken many of the living but, as humanity always had a tendency to do, it proved that no scourge or crisis could outdo its own savagery.  
Costia and John had not been killed by the dead.  
She got to her feet, suddenly unable to bear being in the claustrophobic, broom closet of a room that she was currently sheltered in. True it was not wise to move around at night (at all really) but she could not stay another moment. She would rather die than remain.  
These days that was a very real possibility. In fact, a likelihood.  
Nonetheless, Lexa moved carefully, feeling her way about to pick up her backpack and make her way to the door. Under the hole in the roof, she got a glimpse of the sky. Dark clouds had moved in and were going by quickly. As if to confirm that it was indeed coming a storm, thunder rolled.  
She stood under the hole in the roof, wishing she could see the moon.  
"You shouldn't go out, love."  
"I have to." Lexa whispered a reply to the voice in her mind, "I wish you were here..."  
"The moon you're looking at is the same one I'm looking at. Goodnight, love." the sweet voice spoke over the radio...lovingly, the last words Costia would ever speak to her.  
Lexa looked, in vain, for even a bright spot in the slate gray sky. The moon was gone, bringing on an overwhelming rush of pain through Lexa's being. Her heart broke as it had countless times in the past and would no doubt break countless more times before it stopped beating altogether.  
She moved to the door of the room hurriedly, unable to stand the place any longer, and bumped into a broken board.  
"Shit!" she growled as she rubbed her stinging thigh, more irritated than pained.  
"This too shall pass, Lex."  
John.  
"In a hundred years..."  
No, John...sooner.  
Lexa looked behind her as more, slightly louder thunder sounded once more with a flash of lightning. Drops of rain began to fall. It fell lightly at first and then got heavier.  
She took a deep breath, smelling damp earth. If she remembered correctly the smell was called petrichor. It had been very warm lately and a while since the last rain.  
She let her breath out in a rather explosive sigh as she walked carefully into the hall outside the room and took a seat on the floor, her back to the wall. She slightly leaned on her backpack beside her. She was tired, mentally and physically, but doubted that she would sleep so she sat and listened to the storm as it picked up intensity.


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke ran ahead, quickly away from the locked gate as Monty yelled for her to come back. Even if Clarke had wanted to it would be fruitless now for she did not have the key to the lock that secured the gate not to mention that a mob of the dead was now between her and the gate.  
"Clarke!" she heard him call after her again then he emitted a startled cry but nothing in the cry indicated he had been injured. She risked a brief pause to check behind her and saw some of the dead trying to break through the gate after Monty. It probably would not hold long...  
"Hey!" she yelled "Hey! This way!"  
The dead were getting closer and the ones at the gate were now focused on her and joining the pursuit. She barely had time to turn and bolt away, her feet squishing on the wet ground.   
The storm had ended not long ago and the air was damp and hot. The downpour had soaked everything and had been welcome, a blessing at a time where blessings were rare Clarke supposed, but it was not making anything easier now. She ran, barely able to see but also unable to take it slow. She tried to keep to the open where nothing locked the light of the moon that now shone after the clouds had, for the most part, moved out. At the same time, she was more of a target in the open.  
Her mind raced too quickly to try processing what the hell had just happened. She had to focus on getting out of this for now and then try to process after she had survived. She was faster than the dead but she had learned long ago not to dismiss them. Yes, she was faster. Yes, she was stronger in a lot of cases. But they were relentless, untiring, and fearless. They mindlessly sought their prey and came from all directions toward any sight or sound that alerted them. One could turn into half a dozen in a matter of seconds.   
They did not grow tired.  
Clarke felt herself growing weary, running at almost full speed with the mud trying to bog her down was wearing her down fast, but fear kept her going across the field behind the retirement home that she and her group had decided to hole up in for the night rather than risk traveling in the dark through the storm.  
The landscape was familiar to her, at least. The field ended where a road, Birch Street, began and led to Polis, her home named by Clarke's father, Marcus, after the fictional world in Clarke's favorite book as a child. On Birch Street, there was a number of houses lining the street, a quarter mile to the west, there was a four way stop. Turning north up Collins would lead to Clarke's old grade school.  
She stopped suddenly, the dead behind her were fifty or so yards back. She heard their gurgling growls and vaguely wondered how the hell many there were now.   
Ahead of her, two or three lurched, intent on her. To her right, several more.  
"Damn it!" she exploded breathlessly and committed to run left.  
"Clarke!" a familiar voice called "Clarke! Hit the deck!"  
She followed Bellamy's instructions without question, going to her belly in the wet grass and mud, feeling the front of her clothes soak immediately but that was the least of her concerns at the moment. As lights came on and gunfire rang through the pre dawn morning, Clarke covered her head with her hands. The sound was almost deafening as several weapons discharged at once to take out the approaching dead. She could not tell exactly how many guns discharged but guessed there was several.   
Had their people ventured out to search when they did not return home as scheduled?  
One of the people was Bellamy, she knew his voice well and was relieved that he had survived at least.  
Monty? He had been alive when she had last seen or heard him. Raven? Jasper?  
The gunfire ceased and she uncovered her head as she heard someone approach and she looked up, unable to see more than a shadow as the bight glow from the lights of a vehicle about twenty yards away rendered seeing who approached her impossible.  
"Bellamy?" she asked, registering that the figure was built different.  
"Clarke Griffin." a voice that certainly did not belong to Bellamy said as he neared her.  
She was halfway to her feet, looking at them then finally seeing him. She felt the blood drain from her face.  
"Roan..."  
He came to a stop beside her, regarding her coldly as he sneered "You look surprised to see me."  
She tried to get to her feet completely but froze as he produced a pistol, aiming it directly at her face. The business end was mere inches from her face and, while it was not a particularly large gun, one round would have well served to end her.  
"Mister Blake." Roan spoke, not taking his eyes off of Clarke as she crouched in the mud.  
She looked past him as another figure approached, horror on her face as she asked numbly "Bellamy?"  
"Stand up," Roan instructed, motioning slightly with his weapon "Slowly."  
"Bellamy?" Clarke asked again "What are you doing?"  
Bellamy moved wordlessly behind Clarke, who was now standing, and grabbed her arms to move her hands behind her back. She felt a large zip tie bind her wrists as Roan answered her question for the man she had thought was her friend "He is doing exactly what I tell him to do, Miss Griffin."  
Roan put his pistol away after Clarke was secure and he looked about for a moment before he said "I always hate to be in a rush but it appears we've drawn a bit of attention."  
He looked at Bellamy and gestured with a single sharp nod before Bellamy quickly covered Clarke's head with a hood.  
She could not see anything but felt herself being dragged away and loaded into one of Roan's trucks to be taken to God only knew where.

* * * *

'Please, don't let me be the only one...' Monty feverishly begged the universe as day broke and he made his way to a single level brick house on the corner of Birch and Collins where he prayed to find at least one of his friends waiting.  
He had seen the fallen dead, killed by the gunfire he had heard and wondered who had taken them out. His gut told him that he did not want to meet up with any of those people and he hoped like hell that none of his friends encountered them.  
He made it to the overgrown lawn and carefully made his way along a half demolished fence at the side of the house. The unkempt grass was over half dead (what was not these days, Monty) because of the heat and lack of rain. It crunched underfoot as he moved to the structure. Not loudly under most circumstances but when one was trying to be silent...  
He made it to the collapsed porch, mouthing silently 'Please, please, please, please..." as he crawled under the door that had broken off its hinges and lay half on its side.  
Monty stood, stopping dead as he came face to face with someone just inside, biting back a cry of shock.  
Although the light was not much, he saw enough of the person to know that it was not someone he knew but a stranger. A pretty stranger with deep, piercing green eyes and a face seeming carved from stone.  
Was she with the people he had heard shooting?  
He opened his mouth to ask her who she was just before the woman moved suddenly and everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

Lexa sat in the brick house with her back to the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room. her eyes on the guy who laid on the floor a few feet from her and her ears open for any sound that would alert her to trouble.  
She did not hear the dead anymore but that did not mean they weren't there. They had been drawn there by gunfire and, while a number of them had followed the trucks, dozens had stuck around making it impossible for Lexa to safely vacate the area so she had taken shelter in the house.  
She had been looking for signs of a small attic or crawlspace, uncomfortable with being in the one story that offered very little protection when the guy had approached the house.  
Had he been part of the group in the trucks? He was definitely Community. Left behind somehow? If so it sucked for him. She had decided, some time ago, that the people who remained and their problems were nothing to her. It was just better that way.   
Things had been quiet for a while now, save for the guy's soft snoring, so Lexa had made up her mind to leave shortly...  
A sound from the guy in the floor brought Lexa out of her thoughts and she fixed him with an almost bored gaze, remaining motionless as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, moaning once more.  
He suddenly jumped to a half sitting position, no doubt recalling that someone, being Lexa, had clocked him. He looked about very briefly before his eyes met Lexa's and he stared at her, clearly still groggy.  
He blinked, trying to clear his head as he finally spoke "Who are you?"  
"Last night...your people?" she asked flatly, ready for any sudden move from him although her instincts told her that he was not particularly dangerous.  
"No." he replied somewhat grumpily "You didn't have to hit me."  
"If you can think of a better way to render someone unconscious I'd like to hear it."   
Not really the truth. Lexa honestly did not care. She was silent.  
He moved his hand to the spot Lexa's weapon, in this case a piece of wood, had struck him and gently massaged the knot she had put there then he groused some more "I can think of other ways."  
She was starting to wish she had just taken off as soon as she had knocked him out and spoke to him in a stern voice "How wonderful for you. But shit happens. The sooner you accept it and get over it, the better off you will be."  
With that, she got to her feet intent to leave the whiny Community boy on his ass in the floor.  
"Hey. Wait." he said urgently, moving unsteadily to stand himself "My name is Monty. Those weren't your people either?"  
The last was not quite a question.  
"No." was her curt response.  
As much as Lexa hated the idea of becoming entangled with anyone, she suddenly felt the loneliness that came with being a Nomad. Wanting to be with another person, even for a little while, suddenly appealed to her. Maybe that was why she hadn't left the house after he had barged in...  
Caring for someone ultimately led to heartbreak so Lexa avoided people. So why was she still there?  
Suddenly angry with herself, Lexa turned away from him.  
'My name is Monty...' his voice echoed in her mind. She cursed inwardly. She did not need another memory. There were enough plaguing her already.  
Before Lexa could exit, she heard him...'Monty'...hopefully she could forget the name in time...she doubted it but hoped anyway...  
"Hey..." he tried to stop her, moving to follow.  
She wheeled around, a dark scowl on her face as she grasped his collar roughly as she growled, heavy emphasis on each word "Do not follow me."   
Monty held his hands up, palms open toward her as he regarded her carefully but, oddly she got the impression that he was not overly concerned for his life at the moment. He merely seemed concerned that the situation had escalated to the point it was at now and he wished to diffuse it.  
"I have friends." he began, sadness weighing his voice down "I don't know where they are...if they're alive..."  
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked, as annoyed with herself as she was with Monty for feeling a sadness of her own...for herself and for him.  
"I don't know." he replied as he shook his head. "They were supposed to meet me here...I guess I'm just scared I'm the only one who made it."  
She tried to fight back the emotions that were going through her entire being right then, that his words had stirred. She must have shown something to him because he regarded her a moment before saying in a gentle voice "You know what that's like."  
Lexa did not trust herself to speak at that moment, she merely tried to compose herself.   
Finally, when she was able to talk, she kept her voice even as she told him simply "I hope you find them." before she turned away from him to take her leave.

* * *

Clarke sat in total darkness. Still hooded and tied to a chair. She was certain that she was in a building now but unsure of anything else.  
Were her friends okay? Were they alive?  
Bellamy...damn Bellamy.  
She was still as she heard voices around her, too faint and muffled to tell exactly who the people speaking were but she supposed it would not be long until she found out.  
She felt someone put their hand on her head, removing the hood, not to mention a few blonde hairs in the process. Although the light in the drab, windowless room was dim, Clarke's eyes would need a minute or so to adjust from the complete darkness of the hood.  
"Miss Griffin." a male voice spoke from beside her, "You haven't changed much since the last time we saw one another."  
Clarke turned her head to look at the face of the man that Kane had exiled from Polis nearly 3 years ago for killing 2 people. Roan had, in the grip of a drinking binge, gotten a bit friendlier with a woman than the woman, and her husband, had liked. A confrontation had quickly started and escalated to the point where Roan had murdered them both. Kane had decided to banish him although his second in command, and Clarke's mother, had strongly recommended executing him.  
"Men like Roan can't be given the chance to live." Abby had said in the conversation that Clarke had overheard "What if he returns to harm us later? He has proven he is a killer."  
But Kane had stuck with his decision to force Roan out of Polis into the wasteland. Where he assumed that Roan would probably die.  
Now, in the dark desolate room, Roan, very much alive, moved to stand in front of her, looking at someone to Clarke's left.  
"Bellamy tells me that Polis has grown into quite the little paradise."  
Clarke looked to her right to see Bellamy standing a few feet away. Although his gaze seemed mildly sad, he did not try to look away.  
"Why?" she asked, glad her voice was cold and hard as steel rather than sad and pleading.  
"Octavia is dead because of Kane. Because of Polis. She never should have been sent out."   
"Octavia volunteered..." Clarke spat the words at him.  
"Enough!" Roan's voice overrode them both impatiently "Blake, go to the Wall."  
With a final glare at Clarke, Bellamy spun on his heel to retreat, leaving Clarke and Roan alone together.  
He approached her, gazing down into her face coldly as he reached out. She jerked in her chair uselessly as she was tied firmly with ropes that were a bit too tight. Not that mentioning this would get her any sympathy from the son of a bitch who had her tied there.  
Suddenly, savagely, he grasped her neck hard enough to ensure that she would have new bruises from it, almost hard enough to cut off her air.  
"I do have plans for you that I would love to carry out," he told her in a deadly tone, "But I will disregard them and kill you if you test me."  
He loosened his grip to move his hand downward slightly, taking the chain around her neck into his grasp. With a sudden yank, it snapped free and Clarke glared furiously at him as he held her necklace in his grubby damned paw.  
"A silver dollar. I suppose since money is useless these days...may as well do something with it."  
"My father gave me that." her voice was low, shaking with rage.  
"And now I'm taking it." he told her dispassionately then paused, looking at her arrogantly a moment before he told her "Kane should have listened to your mother. But coulda, shoulda, woulda, so they say. If you will excuse me, Miss Griffin, I do have business to attend to."


	4. Chapter 4

"Smile." Costia had coaxed, raising the camera that had immediately became her most prized possession the moment she acquired it.  
"Why keep that thing?" Lexa had asked, curious, rather than smiling for the photo Costia was preparing to take.  
"I loved taking pictures before," Costia had explained "Since the cell phone is out this 'thing' will do. I can even get the pictures developed."  
The young woman moved to sit on the small bench beside the bed they shared in their tent as she continued talking. Words that Lexa could not really hear...there were other things drowning Costia's voice out...  
Beautiful brown eyes looked at Lexa, lovingly, as she told her, suddenly audible again, "I want the first picture I take with it to be of you before you leave..."  
'It will be the last...' Lexa's mind taunted her.  
"...and the second picture to be of you when you get back."  
Although Lexa felt a crushing weight on her chest, a deep and tortured ache, she smiled when Costia raised the camera. She would never deny her anything.  
"You are so damned beautiful, love." Costia said tenderly as she lowered the camera. Lexa did not hear the words, they had gotten overrun by other, more chaotic sounds but she remembered that day clearly. Costia had gotten to her feet and approached Lexa, putting her arms around her for a soft kiss. Lexa reached up to wrap her fingers in Costia's long, black hair as she lost herself in the kiss. It felt good to hold Costia close even if it was just in memory.  
Costia moved back slightly, looking deep into Lexa's eyes. She had beautiful eyes that danced joyously no matter what went on around her. She had always tried to find the good in everything. Perhaps, Lexa thought, that was the reason Costia had fallen in love with the surly, angry girl that hardly anyone else wanted anything to do with. Whatever the reason, Lexa was always grateful that she had.   
What good would Costia have found in that day? The day that she had died along with everyone else she had known besides Lexa?  
"You are the most beautiful part of me." Lexa had told her, bringing a hundred watt smile to Costia's lips.  
"You have great beauty inside of you." she had told Lexa "Let others see it."  
"Life isn't over."  
Lexa was frozen, speechless, as the sounds, screams...destruction...became unbearable.  
"Lexa..." Costia's voice.  
"Lexa!"

* * * * *

Clarke examined the room she was in. A large cellar with wooden stalls built along the rear wall made of blocks. It was dim lit, dank. Not a pleasant place to be to put it mildly but she refused to believe that she would be there long. There had to be a way out and she would find it. She did not kid herself that it would be easy but she had to believe it was possible. Her father had always told her that the most costly thing to lose was hope and Clarke had always believed that strongly.  
"I've been in here a long time." a voice spoke, coming from the back of the large cellar, "I spent the first few weeks searching for a way out. But there isn't one. At least not a pleasant one."  
She turned to the person who had addressed her, half startled. A tall man with a deep voice and dark skin took a few more steps forward and then stopped. He struck her as someone who had been white collar before the end of everything had fallen apart. Well educated and sharp, composed even as a resident of Roan's hell hole of a prison.  
"There's always a way." she stated firmly, further studying him to determine whether or not he was an immediate threat to her.   
He smiled ruefully, looking thoughtful, sad, before he spoke "I've been here for years...two...three...and haven't met anyone who has found it. In here, the days just become one, long stretch so forgive me for my lack of clarity."  
"Understandable." she said somewhat absently, acknowledging his statement, before she asked "What's your name?"  
"My name is Victor. I wish we could have met under more favorable circumstances, Miss Griffin."  
She was not surprised that he knew her name. He probably knew quite a bit, learned from his fellow prisoners along the way. While he was not immaculately kept, he did appear reasonably well groomed. Perhaps he performed tasks for Roan's people occasionally? Possible. If so, he had probably picked up knowledge from them as well.  
"Not really like Roan to keep someone around for too long." Clarke began to probe, deciding to pick a little of Victor's brain.  
"As long as he is punishing them he will make exceptions."  
"Why would he want to punish you?" Clarke decided not to beat around the bush with him. She doubted he was a man that many people could finesse. In fact, he seemed like a man that was at least two steps ahead of almost everyone else. Almost everyone. What was it that Althea was so fond of saying? Don't bullshit a bullshitter?  
"You ask a lot of questions, Miss Griffin." he observed sounding neither annoyed nor weary. In fact, he sounded somewhat pleased.  
She shrugged, offering him a charming, open grin "Good way to pass the time since we're both going to be here for a while."  
'But,' Clarke vowed to herself 'Not too long a while.'

* * * * *

"Lexa..."  
She scowled as his voice reached her, annoyed with the Community Boy's lack of respect for the request she had made of him.  
"I told you not to follow me." she spoke flatly as she turned to face him.  
Her anger flared again as she noticed a young woman with Monty, who stood with his hands up, palms toward her. The young woman studied Lexa, evaluating her from a distance of about 10 yards. Unlike Monty, the girl had seen life outside the Community but, like Monty, she did not strike Lexa as someone needlessly cruel or combatative.  
"Lexa," Monty said, venturing closer to her "This is..."  
"Why did you follow me?" Lexa interrupted, not caring what the girl's name was. It didn't matter.  
"I wanted to talk to you." the girl did not seem too broken hearted over Lexa's lack of interest as she came within five yards of Lexa, looking down at the pack that Lexa carried.  
"That symbol..." Monty's Friend touched, indicating the subject of interest with a gesture of her head. Lexa did not look but remembered it perfectly, a circle, drawn in black, with the silhouette of a bird inside. The girl continued to ask "Are you one of them?"  
"No." Lexa told her tonelessly. She cut her green eyes to Monty, who regarded her anxiously.  
"Did you find the backpack?" he asked.  
"In a manner of speaking," she replied "It belonged to a man who tried to kill me. I killed him first and took it." Lexa elaborated.  
She really should have left Monty before he woke.  
Now, Lexa began to feel real pangs of sympathy for Monty and his friend. She remembered, briefly, those she had loved and vividly remembered losing them. It was a pain that she did not wish on these two.  
"I have seen the symbol on the side of a building a few miles from here." she offered, her tone uncharacteristically gentle. She cursed herself. Compassion was weakness, as was love, and weakness got people killed.  
"Where exactly?" Monty's Friend began, seeming excited to be going down a new road that might lead to whoever they were searching for.  
"Uh...guys..." Monty interrupted, looking to his left, Lexa's right. She turned her head to look in that direction. A dozen of the dead had noticed them and were on their way.  
Lexa was not overly concerned at the moment, they were about forty yards away, but could tell Monty would much rather carry on the conversation elsewhere.  
"Okay, Lexa," he spoke as he made eye contact with Lexa, grinning as he indicated his friend with a two handed gesture, sneaking in the introduction Lexa had put off "Raven Reyes...can we go now?"  
He turned and began walking away , leaving Lexa and Raven to look after him.  
Lexa, somewhat annoyed with Monty but more at the tug of affection she had felt faintly "Is he always like this?"  
Raven crossed her arms, watching him "No. He's worried about the others. He's usually a lot more chipper."  
Lexa winced and said "I'm sorry." as Monty turned back to them.  
"Guys." he voiced, just loud enough to be heard by them, motioning for them to come.  
Raven shook her head, a sigh escaping her before she said "Thanks." and took a step or two away from Lexa.  
She paused and looked over her shoulder to Lexa and said "I know you're the loner type. But we could use your help. I'm sure there is something you might want. Maybe if you help us, we can help you."  
Lexa stood still, thoughtful. There were things but were they worth it? She could maybe get a way to go somewhere far away. Truth told, she doubted she could walk away now because something deep inside of her had already committed to helping Monty, and Raven to a lesser extent. But she would never let them know that.   
With one final look over her shoulder at the dead that closed in, perhaps 25 yards now, she began to casually walk with Monty and Raven.


End file.
